Utterly Helpless

I have been impatient since I can remember.

I've never been good at waiting, so it makes sense that the unpredictable nature of pregnancy would make me crazy. I'm dying for this baby to come out, and not knowing when she will decide to do so is downright painful. These practice contractions are getting old, and my due date is just taunting me.

No one warned me that the last few weeks of my pregnancy would be spent wishing it was over. I have loved being pregnant, and I look back on it with fondness, but let's move on!

The cuteness of my baby belly has worn off. This thing is large and heavy, constantly looking up at me with resigned stubbornness. Yesterday, a man at the store looked at me and exclaimed, "Good lord! Twins?" No, sir, I'm just a very pregnant tiny girl, but thank you for reminding me that I'm disproportionate and awkward.

Another downside to this waiting game is not knowing what to do to pass the time. Sure, there's plenty of things I could do, but all I really, truly want to do is meet my baby. The universe is saying to me, "You can do whatever you want, but you can't have this baby 'til I say so." I think I'll appreciate any brief moments I have to do what I want after I have this baby because they'll be fewer and much further between.

A while ago, I painted my nails- a task that usually doesn't mean very much to me. Sure, I like how it makes me feel, but the actual process is really just another mindless task. Not long after I finished, however, I realized that this may be one of the last times I get to paint my nails without the threat of an infant screaming while they're still wet. Right now, I can take my time picking out a color and making sure my nails look perfect. In the future, assuming I even have the time to look down at my hands, I'll have to make sure the baby is sleeping in her bed with a full belly and a clean diaper before I can even ponder grooming, and she could still decide to interrupt!

As "they" say, the grass is always greener on the other side. I'm sure that no matter how much I love my daughter, I will occasionally look back at my solo life with nostalgia and think, 'Damn, I used to be able to watch "Chelsea Lately" every night and put on mascara.' Oh well. I'm already looking forward to the day when baby girl asks me to put some pink polish on her little nails as well.